A bullet through the Veil
by flyharel
Summary: Solas let Sophia Lavellan join him on his din'anshiral. For him, she gave up her world and her people, and watched Thedas burn for 300 years, torn in war between the Dread Wolf and the Evanuris who escaped their imprisonment in the Black City. As Fen'harel's actions became more and more desperate, she could no longer stand idly by.
1. The boy

Every evening, at precisely ten o'clock, precisely three thousand Sentinels fall in formation for their march through the Temple of Mythal.

Their uniforms glare like the scales of a black dragon crawling through the narrow streets. The snug second skins of enchanted carbon fiber reflect the glow of veilfire-lit skyscrapers and lyrium-powered cars dashing in the sky above, filled with elves rushing to get home before curfew is enforced. Then silence befalls the Temple. Three thousand bare feet make no sound as they march on the serpentstone pavement smoothened by the ages.

Then formation breaks off and the dragon dissolves into a swarm of silent Sentinels who spread out along every street of the Temple, two by two, patrolling the streets till morning.

In their homes, people hide from the soldiers of their goddess and pray for her blessing.

It had rained earlier today and stray droplets still fell from the trees lining the street, cool and soothing on Rav's face. When he looked up, he could see the great barrier that covered the entire Temple flicker with tiny speckles of light, remnants of the rain passing through. _We thank Mythal for the powerful wards that protect us,_ he thought of a prayer, but this time instead of awe, the words brought a tightness to his chest and a sting in his eyes.

By this time tomorrow, he'd be on the other side of that barrier, far away from the tree-lined streets.

"This your last night on patrol, Sabrae?" asked Lieutenant Tabris, his partner for the night. It was strange how such a booming voice could come from such a body, small and shriveled up like a raisin.

"Yes, hahren." Rav took extra care not to break stride or turn his head or let his voice do anything more than state the mere fact. Grief should be hushed and heal quickly. To show emotion in the face of loss would be unseemly, unworthy of a Sentinel's pride.

It was pride that got him in trouble. Pride and foolish arrogance.

But the words had been said already and they'd set off a chain of events that would eventually kill him. All he could do right now was stand back and watch his life unravel, thread by thread.

And the threads had been so slow to weave and so laborious that the effort had more than once bloodied his fingers. It had not happened by chance that the son of a kitchen worker had raised himself while his mother took double shifts. It had not been fate that had gotten him recruited to the academy. And it had certainly not been luck that had caused him to graduate second best in his class and be chosen as one of Mythal's Sentinels.

Yet maybe it all had made him too proud for his own good.

The two Sentinels reached a puddle lying in their path and jumped over it without breaking a beat, and as they marched forward, Rav kept looking over his uniform, making sure it was still spotless.

"Where are they sending you?"

"North, hahren."

"Ah," the old man shook his head. "Then I hope you've said your goodbyes for good."

"Of course." Rav should've stopped there, but he felt the bitterness well up inside, turning in his stomach like bile. "Not that many people left to say goodbye to, hahren."

"Did this to yourself, boy. What got into you to rat on one of our own? Did you really think you'd get ahead like this?"

Rav had really thought he would get ahead. He'd also thought it had been the right thing to do.

Perhaps he should have never spoken up. When he discovered that the one person to graduate above him was smuggling lyrium, he should have pretended he knew nothing of it.

But he reported it, thinking he would gain an advantage, and the rest was a story he'd heard all too often, but never thought it would happen to him. Cold stares and hushed whispers when he passed by the senior officers. Conversations going silent as he entered the room. One by one, his friends starting to avoid him. Eventually, rumors must have spread to the civilians, because the look on his mother's face when he came home in the evening became different. Though they never spoke about it, they both expected that one evening he would not.

It came as no surprise when he finally received his transfer orders. Not only were they sending him to fight beyond the walls of the Temple, but he was going North. And everyone knew being sent North to fight the Qunari was a death sentence.

Now it seemed a slightly better fate than still being in the company of Lieutenant Tabris who showed no intention of shutting up. "Elgara was a good kid. Excellent Sentinel. So what if she was smuggling some on the side?"

"She was a traitor and a dissident, hahren. Every drop of lyrium on the black market is a drop not used to sustain us or make weapons. It weakens us in the war against the Evanuris."

"Let me speak from the heart, da'len," began lieutenant Tabris, thus confirming Rav's suspicions as to why, despite the old man's four decades of service, he was still only a lieutenant. "To the Void with this war. I'm tired. Wife got sick two years ago with something in her chest, and it ate at her, day and night, to the point where she couldn't sleep from the pain. Doc said she needs a mage healer. Took her to the mages and they wouldn't even let me through the door. Mages getting fewer and fewer, they said, and all healers were sent to the field to keep the soldiers going longer in battle. They gave her elfroot. Elfroot! It did no good, even for the pain, so I had to take her with my own gun."

"Ir abelas, hahren," said Rav. "I didn't know."

"Of course not, you were too busy trying to get ahead to stop and talk to any of us. And for what?" They were passing by one of the many stone shrines of the Dread Wolf and Tabris spat, still without breaking stride, which made Rav shudder in shock and nascent anger. "I became a Sentinel because it seemed better than fighting. You protect the Temple, protect the people. But do you know what the people are, boy?"

"I don't know, hahren," replied Rav coldly, "but I think you've said enough."

Part of him wondered if he should report this conversation as well, along with Tabris' blasphemy. If Tabris spoke carelessly in front of him, he was probably sharing those dangerous thoughts with others too. But Rav had been planning to spend his last few hours in the Temple with his mother, not pushing paperwork.

"They are weapons," Tabris ignored the warning. "Flesh the gods throw against other flesh in this war that has taken everything from us."

"What's the alternative? Surrender to the Evanuris? We are free people, protected by Mythal and her guardian, and I'd take a bullet before I take vallaslin."

"I've read the textbooks too, da'len. But have you ever seen Mythal? Have you spoken to the Dread Wolf? When have they bothered to come out of the Old Temple and see how we live? For all we know, they're no better than the Evanuris. For all we know, they might not even exist." Tabris sighed and passion gave way to grief in his voice. "Ah, but you're still so young. I'll pray Mythal sends you an easy death."

"But if you mean what you just said… Why would you still pray to her?"

Rav never got an answer. A faint greenish glow coming from around the corner on his right caught his attention, and he signed to his partner to follow him. Without saying a word or falling out of sync, the two Sentinels changed their pace to a slow silent glide and headed in the direction of the glow. When they reached the end of the block and turned around, they saw it was coming from a hand.

A female hand, by the look of it. The figure was small, maybe about a head and a half shorter than him, sitting on the ground with her back leaning against another shrine of Fen'harel and holding a small flask. The flowers left by the shrine were crushed under her backside. The hood of her tattered leather jacket covered her face, and all Rav could see from it was the glimmer of the veilfire streetlight reflected in her big eyes. Somehow the glow coming from her hand pulsed in sync with the veilfire flame.

She had been staring at them the moment they turned around the corner. Did she hear them approaching? He'd thought it impossible to hear the steps of a trained Sentinel.

"Venavis," he yelled. "What are you doing here?"

She laughed and he smelled liquor on her breath, something with the flavor of berries, even from a few steps afar. "Worshiping, what does it look like?"

It looked like a homeless drunk had picked the wrong spot to sleep for the night, but the strange glowing hand didn't fit with that explanation. In any case, Rav had had it with all the irreverence and sacrilege tonight. Vandalizing a shrine and violating curfew were enough to take her in, then let someone at HQ sort it out.

"Where did you get that?" Tabris pointed at her flask.

"I stole it. Obviously," she laughed again.

Rav signed to his partner to stand ready if there's trouble and reached with his left hand for the cuffs on his belt.

"Stand up with your hands in the air and turn away from the sound of my voice." His kept his tone level but firm, just like he'd been trained, pacing constantly from side to side to keep her confused about his exact location.

"I'm far too sober yet for this nonsense, falon" She sprang to her feet, then staggered towards him, swaying a little. "And even if I weren't, I hardly have the time."

She was close now, and though the hood still obscured the features of her face, Rav managed to make out a snub nose painted with a Raven's beak. She had vallaslin.

At the edge of his vision, Tabris no longer moved in sync with him.

The orders were to shoot marked people on sight, soldiers or civilians. Almost instinctively, Rav reached for his gun. He was a good shooter, quick to draw and aim, but before his hand could reach the holster, he heard the click of a toggled safety and felt the cold circle of a barrel press against his temple.

Slowly, he shifted his gaze sideways, but even before that he recognized that ominous click, the type of sound that was made by a Sentinel weapon.

"Tabris..."

In the dim light of the veilfire, the woman's eyes suddenly glowed in lyrium white-blue.

For a moment all Rav could feel was the gun to his head and the blood pulsing at his fingertips. Then he froze, his entire body shaking against his will, and he could not stop a stream of hot tears from rolling down his cheeks. _You're a Sentinel,_ he thought. _They trained you better than this._ But the thought flickered out almost as soon as it appeared. He'd beg for mercy but the words choked in his throat.

The woman walked up to him and took the sending crystal from his belt. The lyrium circuits inside the crystal lit up at her touch and the digits of his Sentinel ID appeared on the screen. She peered at them for a few seconds, then looked up at Rav.

"So this is you." Her brow furrowed for a fraction of a heartbeat, then it was gone. "You are brave. Stand still." She raised her hand towards his face.

Rav closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, expecting a bullet or a blow or who-knows-what to end him. _Dread Wolf, still my fear,_ his lips mouthed a silent prayer. _Mythal, protect my mother when I'm gone._

But then the skin of her hand was warm on his forehead, and that warmth passed like a wave through him, from his forehead, through the tips of his ears, all the way to his toes. Then a pleasant, tired calm overcame him, like the aftermath of sex or running. He opened his eyes and met her glowing gaze.

He knew he should be alarmed, but all he felt was serenity.

"There. This should help you stay calm." She smiled as she wiped the tears off his cheeks and took away his gun.

Only then did Tabris lower his weapon but the imprint of the barrel still burned against Rav's temple.

"Now, falon," said the woman, "do as I say and you won't be harmed. My magic controls your partner. I could use him to kill you both and no one will be any the wiser. I cut off his access to his ears and vocal cords, so trying to talk to him is pointless. The two of you will follow me and march as if everything's as usual to meet a friend of mine around the corner, and then we have a car a few blocks from here. If we run into anyone, you will say you are escorting us home after curfew. Think you could do that and stay quiet?"

Rav considered. She was clearly a mage. He'd only met a mage once before. When he was twelve, a classmate set his desk on fire, then disappeared a week later, and no one would speak about it openly. The boy's parents acted like as if their son was dead.

Now that Rav thought about it, it was a cruel way to lose a son. His mother would get at least a body and a funeral.

Unless this mage had other plans for him, that is.

They'd had but one lesson on fighting mages in the academy. It had been concise: "If you outnumber them five to one or more, fire as usual. Otherwise, find a good way to die." In his current position, trying to fight the woman seemed pointless.

He then thought of her vallaslin. "You must be one of Dirthamen's people," he said. "I'm just an ensign; I've no information you would want. I doubt they'd trade anything for me either."

"Dirthamen's people would gut your insides and mail them still warm to the Dread Wolf just to spite him, falon. Next time you pray under your breath, pray that they never break through the barrier of this Temple."

"Then why are you taking me?"

"I'm saving your life. Word is on the street you're the best shooter this Temple has seen. Good student, bright future, but then you threw it away. Didn't they teach you in the academy that nobody likes a whistleblower? In any case, you'll make no difference out there fighting Ghilan'nain's Qunari, but you attracted the attention of our small group of social activists and concerned citizens."

"You're a dissident." Rav resisted the urge to spit at her. This close to Fen'harel's shrine, it seemed disrespectful.

"Is that what they call it these days? I like to think I'm planning a rebellion."

"Then shoot me." His stomach turned at the thought, but her spell still kept him somewhat calm. Perhaps it was better she did it now while his fear was subdued. "I won't cooperate. I have sworn my life to the people."

"You should've thought of that when you reported one of _my_ people for smuggling. Took me years to place her in just the right position. Now you'll have to replace her, and luckily, you seem just the type I could use."

His hands curled into fists.

"I won't help you. I believe in Fen'Harel's wisdom to…" Tabris pointed the gun at his head again and Rav choked.

"Spare me. You can believe whatever you like. I just need you to do a job for me, and then you'll be free. In fact, the more you disagree with me, the better."

Worry crept through his sedation but it all felt distant and he still felt numb. He could will himself to take that bullet, he told himself, but it might be better to wait and see exactly what she was dragging him into. Maybe he could gather information about this rebellion and then escape.

Rav nodded. "Lead the way."

She perked up and sprang forward, walking quite fast for somebody so short and still swaying a little. There was a skip to her step. Mythal have mercy, she was enjoying this.

"What's your name, falon?" she asked.

He answered, "Aravas." Then he hesitated for a second before asking, "And you?"

"Sophia."

"That's a strange name."

"It's a human name."

Human. The word sounded familiar but it took a moment to recall its meaning. "Aren't they all dead?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice bizarrely hollow. "But their names are not."

 _They still call me "kid" when I sleep,_ Rav heard a voice like a light warm whisper that seemed to echo from within. He looked around but the intersection they were at was empty. _They loved. They fought. They protected. They died. I would not let them suffer. I will make them matter again, then they won't be lost._

A shadow grew out of the formless darkness in the corner and took shape at the edge of his vision. _They are not hurting,_ Rav felt the voice again. _Good._

"Cole." Sophia raised her flask in a toast and took a sizable gulp from it.

Rav looked in the direction of the toast. The shadow turned out to be a young man carrying a duffle bag, which - Rav noted to himself - was just large enough to hold a sniper rifle. He wore a big hat with no slits, which had to be squashing his ears in a really uncomfortable way. Underneath it, Rav made out long blond locks of hair, unsettlingly messy in the way it fell just beneath the shoulders, but it had a lovely golden blond shade, rich against the most pale face Rav had ever seen.

"You like it if they call you Rav," said the pale young man. He looked at Rav, as if he did not really see him, and whispered, _She must keep her eyes open another night, worrying, grieving that you did not come home. I must be strong for him. She is afraid, eyes hurting from all those nights preparing to let go. But she is ready._

"I…" Rav's voice broke for a moment. Through the young man's words he could all but see his mother staying up until late, waiting, then eventually falling asleep at the kitchen table. She'd done it before, but this would be the first time he wouldn't come home at the end of the night shift, tug at her shoulder, and carry her to her bed. The few hours they'd thought they had before he had to leave the Temple would be taken away from them.

Then he reminded himself he was still a soldier and his mother was the mother of a soldier. The young man was right. She would be strong for him.

"You're a spirit." said Rav. He'd been taught of their powers but he'd never met one in the flesh, so to speak.

"Did the hat give me away?" The young man chuckled and tipped the edge of his hat in a greeting. "I am Compassion but you may use the name Cole. I hope I can help. As much as _anyone_ could help anyway."

Cole's voice was warm with concern and Rav realized he was smiling despite himself. It had been months since anyone had been friendly to him or made a light hearted joke.

The spirit turned to Tabris, placed his hand on the old man's shoulder, leaned forth, and whispered, "Stay strong." Tabris did not react. Not a single muscle on the old man's face moved but Rav thought he saw his pupils dilate.

"Let's keep moving," said Sophia. It seemed she was deliberately looking away from Tabris. "You have my back, Cole?"

"You're doing well," the spirit smiled faintly at her.

The car was a few blocks away. It was an old model from at least two decades ago, made entirely of obsidian with the lyrium circuits on the outside instead of inscribed inside the stone as with Rav's sending crystal. It had to belong to Sophia or Cole, because when the lyrium sensed them coming, the circuitry lit up in recognition of its owner, shining in bright blue against the black metal. The doors slid aside, letting them in. Tabris took the driver's seat and the woman took the one next to him. Rav and cole sat in the back.

They flew low, probably relying on the tall buildings to hide the glow of the car's active lyrium circuits. Tabris' hand rested calmly on the control lever and the reflection of his face in the rearview mirror seemed focused but otherwise completely normal.

"Does he feel anything?" asked Rav.

"He can see us but not hear us." Sophia turned around, propping herself up on her knees and hugging the back of her seat. Her glowing eyes inspected Rav curiously. "I tugged at his pleasure center a little. He's sedated just like you are."

"He is trapped," Cole said, turning to Sophia. "Lost and confused, but not hurting. He would stop struggling and just watch, but you don't blink as often as he does, and it makes him feel uneasy."

"Oh," she shrugged. "I'll remember to blink more often then."

Soon the sound of dust particles hitting the windshield signaled they had flown into the outskirts of the Temple, where trees and lush grass gave way to the desert that covered most of the outside world, or so Rav had been taught.

This area was so far out in the outskirts that Rav could see in the distance the faint glow of the great magical barrier that surrounded the entire Temple. There was no other light here at night and few people ever came. Within the windowless walls of enchantment factories, machines ran day and night to inscribe the lyrium circuits that powered cars, appliances, portable devices, but most of all weapons.

Tabris landed the car in the narrow space between two factory buildings. It was a tough parking job, the walls were at an arm's length on either side. Meanwhile, Sophia was reading something on the sending crystal she'd taken from Rav, though from that distance he couldn't tell exactly what it was. If she were flying the car through Tabris, could she really focus on two things in two different bodies at once? Rav felt cold creep in his hands and feet all of a sudden. This didn't bode well for any future escape attempts.

They got out and Tabris led the three of them along the empty roads between the factories. The desert sand felt sticky on Rav's sweaty feet. He tried to observe and memorize their route but even though he'd spent his entire life in the Temple, this was an unfamiliar place. They took too many turns, probably on purpose, and he eventually resigned himself to feeling lost. But he kept counting heartbeats along the way just like he'd been trained. He knew his heart rate during times of stress and he used it to estimate they must've walked three quarters of an hour before they reached a building that was seemingly indistinguishable from the other buildings in the industrial zone.

Sophia walked up to the entrance and placed her hand on the key slot. Immediately, the giant door was aglow in active lyrium and it slid inside the walls with a low hum.

The veilfire lights inside sensed them entering and lit up all at once. It seemed like a warehouse for… mirrors? Rows upon rows of them in various shapes and sizes. Why would the temple manufacture so many of them in times when bread and lyrium rations were low? And not just simple ones; they were lavish floor mirrors, some of them with ornamental frames. What a waste.

"You've never seen eluvians before, have you?" said Sophia. "Believe it or not, you can walk through."

"To where?"

"Anywhere you set them for, if they're active. But these here are the broken ones. Except for the one that's mine," she smirked. "But who would notice one working eluvian among hundreds of others?"

She walked up to a seemingly random mirror in the middle of one row. It was on the small side, with an elaborate wooden frame and a carving of a snake swallowing its own tail as it weaved around the mirror's base. Sophia leaned towards it and whispered something barely audible.

The mirror's surface glowed, as if it was made of light, and rippled with the rhythm of Sophia's voice. "Just walk through and you'll be at our headquarters. After you."

Rav stepped forward, hesitantly. The surface felt smooth as it engulfed him. It reminded him of the only silk dress his mother owned.

For an instant, he thought he could hear her sing.

But the sound of his mother's voice turned out to be a stone floor, so cold and damp it numbed his toes. It took him a moment to sort out his senses.

This place smelled of mold. Wherever he was, it seemed like an old place that was barely holding together. Fragments of statues and mosaics he couldn't recognize lay scattered on the floor. Veilfire burned in brazziers instead of modern lights, and only a few of them worked.

But it must have been magnificent once. The sheer size of the place was incredible. It was larger than the main hall at HQ, and that could hold twenty thousand Sentinels.

"This used to be an ancient elven burial chamber," he heard Sophia behind him. She, Cole and Tabris had already passed through. "Many slept here, but when they woke up it was abandoned.

"Ancient elves? You mean like the immortals living in the Old Temple?" Rav's eyes widened in awe. "So our elders were here once. People who have seen Mythal and the Dread Wolf with their own eyes? Maybe even he himself…"

"Them and the servants of the Evanuris." Sophia winced. "It was mostly random where they chose to sleep when their world fell apart so quickly."

"What do you mean fell apart? As in when the humans arrived?"

She rolled her eyes with an affected sigh. "This is hardly the time for a history lecture. I should at least let your partner go first."

The light in her eyes disappeared. Tabris fell to his knees and gasped for breath, as if taking one for the first time in a while. He coughed, then grabbed his head, moaning.

"Please," he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling. "No more."

"No more." She shook her head. "Won't be doing this again, falon. I don't need you any longer." She extended her hand towards him. "The rest of this won't hurt."

"Don't dare come near me." He drew his gun, the best draw Rav had ever seen him do. His voice and hand shook but his eyes locked on her steadily.

"As you wish." Sophia's eyes curled in a smile. There was something in her voice, some slight nod of respect, and it made Rav wonder.

It would've been a bad shot if he'd pulled the trigger, Rav thought, and Tabris knew it too. It was a pointless struggle that meant nothing.

But it changed so much. Cold chills gripped Rav again as he realized what was about to happen. Then he was hot with shame, watching Tabris prepare to die better than he ever could.

As if hearing his thoughts - or maybe because of it - Cole grabbed him by the arm, holding gently but firmly.

"Don't look," said the spirit.

Sophia flicked her wrist, just slightly. A spark of lightning illuminated the entire hall. It was small but bright enough to blind Rav for a moment.

Tabris dropped his gun and fell, clutching at his heart. He drew slow rattling breaths as his lips turned purple and his legs twitched. Death dragged on for several minutes and Rav watched, transfixed, until his knees felt weak and his stomach turned. Then Cole let go of him and he fell on all fours, vomiting.

 _Bound, bitter, breath burning in my throat,_ Cole's whisper ran through him. _You're a Sentinel, they trained you for this. Seanna, my heart, I will be with you soon._ Cole placed his palm on his heart and his face writhed in pain. "He suffered," he said to Sophia, an edge of anger in his voice. "If you hadn't released him, he wouldn't have felt it."

Sophia downed the rest of her flask and kneeled by Tabris' body, closing his eyes gently and taking off her jacket to cover him.

"When will you learn it's not all about avoiding suffering, Cole?" she replied calmly. "I gave him a moment of freedom."


	2. The woman

When Rav came home, his mother was waiting. She had fallen asleep on the kitchen table, wearing her green silk dress, flowers in her ash-blonde braid, as if ready for the spring festival. She'd left a bowl of macaroni and sugar for him and he ate it, saving half for her. He wondered whether they could spare all that sugar and she said she didn't care. It was his favorite meal, the only thing he'd eat when he was sick.

He said he wasn't sick, and she held him and told him it was all right to be, and he wept in her arms. The silk slid soft against his face until it swallowed him whole, and he fell through an eluvian and woke up.

He'd sunk too deep in sweat-soaked sheets and blankets, cotton rather than wool, over a mattress that was too lumpy to be his.

He sat up in the bed and rubbed his temples. He remembered the barrel of Tabris' gun burning cold against his skin, then Tabris lay dead on a moldy stone floor. The last thing he remembered was a needle in his neck and a man's voice telling him to breathe.

His sending crystal was left on top of a dresser across the room, next to the cuffs, the gloves, the water bottle with the Angry Nugs sticker on it - Everything but his gun. Would the crystal work down here? Perhaps he could call home. No, what a foolish thought.

It was pathetic, the little quiver in his lower lip that he just couldn't will away. The Dread Wolf would never cry alone like this. He had to scrape up for some fortitude, and at least make an attempt to escape.

Sophia was sleeping curled up in a chair next to the bed. In the bright light, with the hood of her jacket down, she looked different: smaller and so pale. Her hair had the shade and shape of war. Bright ginger, almost vermillion, it was pulled back in a messy ponytail, stray curls shooting up in all directions.

A lump in the pocket of her jacket caught his eye, and he remembered she'd taken his gun from him back in the dark alley. The lump seemed about the right size and she was sound asleep. If he could just...

"Mythal's bosom, you're awake!" Someone shoved a glass of water in his hands.

Rav started, then looked up. A pair of calm violet eyes met his own, and a man said cheerfully, "You might live!"

Rav recognized the voice that had told him to breathe after the needle had pulled out of his neck. "I might?"

"You shook with fever for two days. Sophia tried to heal you till she exhausted herself. It's rare, but we thought you would reject the graft." The man grinned. "I'm Felassan - spirit, scientist, and hobbyist cherry farmer."

"Graft?"

Felassan grabbed the glass, now empty, from Rav's hands and swiftly replaced it with a bowl. "Hydroponic cherries; turns out you can grown them in raw lyrium. Really enhances the flavor! We've grown a modest orchard down here, three doors south."

"I'll pass." The fruit seemed fine, if a little too large and too purple, but he had no appetite.

He had to stay focused, he thought. That had to be his gun in the pocket of Sophia's jacket, and he was confident he could retrieve it, quietly and quickly. She wouldn't even notice she'd been hit, which was just as comforting for him. It would be his first time.

But then there was this Felassan who was now munching on the cherries and rambling something about farming trees. He was hard to read, seemingly not armed and hostile, but who knows what a spirit is capable of. And where was Cole? He'd have to take them both as prisoners. If he could think of an effective distraction… Damn it, he only knew how to aim and shoot; why hadn't school prepared him for this?

The sending crystal could work. Anything with lyrium circuits could be controlled from a distance, with a thought. By eye, the crystal seemed closer than the maximum range of a small lyrium-powered device. All he had to do was will it to ring.

Felassan jumped at the sound. "Wretched thing," he murmured as he rushed to pick the crystal up and fidget with it, his back now towards Rav. Good. "How do you turn it off?" The spirit spat out strange words under his breath - feneis, fenethis… something with the elven word for "wolf" in it - while the crystal played the Angry Nugs main theme, and Rav sprang from the bed, snatching his gun from Sophia's pocket.

 _Don't,_ he felt Cole's whisper like a low hum in his chest, but when he looked around he saw only Felassan and Sophia.

He had to act quickly. He pumped to chamber a round and stepped back to a spot where he could keep them both in sight. The crystal went silent at his command.

Felassan said another fen-something, then turned around and saw the gun. "Oh, clever!"

"Don't move," said Rav. "I'm fast enough to shoot you both."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about _me_." Felassan waved his words away. He sounded more amused than frightened. "But I'd try to take her out before she wakes up."

Sophia had already stirred, awakened from the small commotion, but from this distance there was no way he would miss.

Aiming was easier than breathing, unconscious like a heartbeat, faster than a blink. Rav was nineteen. In the last five years, he'd spent several hours every day crouching behind cover on the training field, drilling the same action of reload, aim, and shoot over and over. It had become so much a part of him, that in this moment he existed only at the point where the two sights aligned.

He held his breath, about to press on the trigger, but then beneath the sights, the blurry image of Sophia opened her eyes.

She stared at him, eyes wide, a vein pulsing on her neck as a rush of blood colored her pale cheeks, and his hand shook. He struggled to steady it for what seemed like forever, while she looked at him, unblinking.

"By the way," said Felassan, munching on some cherries, "you know what else you can grow in lyrium? Cells. Neural stem cells, to be precise."

" _My_ neural stem cells." Sophia smiled as the haunted white-blue glow returned to her eyes.

Suddenly, Rav began to suffocate. He _was_ breathing, or rather something was breathing for him, but not in the way he was used to, too slowly and superficially. It felt like the air was not enough. He was desperate to gasp for more but couldn't.

 _Mythal,_ he cried for help but he couldn't even say her name. His lips did not move by a millimeter.

"We've grown millions of cells down here. And then Felassan injected some into you."

That's what the needle had been for. Rav remembered someone creeping behind him, unheard, unnoticed, until the needle had gone into his neck. It had been Felassan.

"Oh, you remember now," said Sophia. "Yes, spirits can be hard to see. Felassan has injected thousands of people in the Temple. We didn't have you, but now that my lyrium-grown cells are inside you, they can override your nervous system. Your eyes are my eyes. Your arms and your precious aim that you trained so hard to perfect are mine too." Rav felt himself lower the weapon against his will. "You are bound to me."

"You're hurting him," cried Cole.

He stormed out of the shadows. Had he been watching the whole time? And if so, why hadn't he attacked when Rav had taken the weapon?

Cole faltered in his stride. Rav watched him squirm under the weight of some internal back-and-forth with himself and wondered what the spirit would do next, if anything.

"I am? Well, if he were half the soldier he imagines he is, he could've stopped me earlier." Rav's arm made an arc, and he held the gun against his own head. "As it turns out, it takes more than perfect aim to pull the trigger on a person. Shall I demonstrate?"

He pushed, as if trying to punch through his chest, rip it open, and escape the body he was now trapped in. But when he tried to resist, he felt a presence. Something wrapped himself around him, crushing him, and filling his lungs with smoke. He couldn't even cough.

"Enough," said Cole and Rav heard the familiar click of coking a gun. "Release him."

"Cole," said Felassan gently.

"I promised I would watch her back. And you know _I_ wouldn't hesitate to pull a trigger. Release him."

"Fine." There was that same frown in Sophia's face as the moment they'd first met, then the glow in her eyes dissipated.

The strange presence was gone and his lungs surged, suddenly drawing a full breath again. He realized he was blinking back tears.

Cole lowered his weapon and came beside Rav, eyes wide with concern. He opened his mouth to say something, but Rav turned around and dashed out of the room. No one stopped him.

Lower lip quivering, fists clenched until his knuckles turned white, he ran. He found the mirror he had passed through to enter this dungeon, but it was just a normal mirror now. Then he ran without direction, looking for a way out, and got lost in the maze of decrepit corridors.

He didn't know how long it took till he was out of breath. Then he sat on the ground, bit his lip and shut his eyes as hard as he could.

He had been so afraid for his life that he'd forgotten about this other fear, the fear of the moment when he would have to fire at a person. And now Sophia had bound him to her will, just like the Evanuris would bind with vallaslin, the very thing he's sworn his life to protect others from.

He felt a hand on his shoulder sometime later. Cole sat next to him and left a steaming bowl of macaroni and sugar on the ground.

"This might help," he said softly.

Rav's gut instinct was to respond with anger, but then he drew a slow breath, steadying himself before replying.

"I don't understand," he said. "I'm your prisoner, and yet you let me try to shoot her."

"You're not _my_ prisoner. It's Sophia and Felassan who need you. I'm here, because she's afraid of what she might become. But then you needed my help as well." Cole placed his hand on his heart. "The deaths are necessary but the hurt isn't. She toys with it, as if it's just another joke. But to tell her it isn't would be just as cruel."

"You make no sense."

"I get that a lot." Cole offered a calm smile. There was something soothing in his very presence.

"Help me escape," Rav whispered but Cole shook his head.

"That would hurt many people."

"Why?"

"If I said, it would hurt _you."_ His big blue eyes gleamed with tears but he was smiling, still. "Your soul is light. Uncluttered. Right and wrong seem so easy to tell. I used to be like that once. Now every choice hurts someone and the best I can do is help them bear it, but it never heals. Too much wrong has happened, and I was one of those who let it happen. Please, come back with me and listen to them. What they want to do will hurt you, but _someone_ has to do it."

Rav nodded faintly. He had no idea if he could trust a spirit, but he felt compelled to. Besides, he'd just discovered he was too cowardly to do much else.

"But first," Cole smiled warmly as he moved closer, "I will listen. And no matter what you do or say, when you are done, we will both forget."

"And no one will know?"

"No one."

Rav buried his head in Cole's shoulder, and softly wept.

The ground beneath them was the sun.

And the sun was made of bright pure lyrium, flowing like a river right under a floor made of glass. It burned hot against Rav's bare feet and made him feel like a child falling in for his first march in the academy - a child with thin-skinned heels, not yet callused by years of walking in a Sentinel's uniform.

The stream of lyrium flooded the large hall with light, so luminous it hurt to look. When his eyes adjusted, he saw a web of roots floating in the river, trembling with the current, joining into thick tree trunks that shot up through openings in the glass. Some forty cherry trees grew in alternating rows, all of them heavy with fruit and deep blue leaves.

So this was the cherry orchard. Cole had said Felassan spent most of his time here.

Somehow it stung to see it, some strange mix of awe and anger, too deep to chase away at will. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

"Where did all this lyrium come from?" he turned to Cole. "There must enough here to sustain a thousand homes for a month."

Cole didn't take his eyes away from Rav's sending crystal. Rav had shown him how to play Angry Nugs and he'd already cleared the first ten levels on their way here. Impressive for a beginner. "It comes from a titan. She forgets herself sometimes."

"Yes, but… Ow!"

Something hit Rav's shoulder and clinked as it fell on the floor. He looked down and saw… a cherry pit?

"That was for drawing a gun on my friend." Felassan was hanging upside-down from a large tree branch, a slingshot in his hand. With a swift fluid motion, he took another cherry pit out of mouth and fired the slingshot at Rav. It hit in the exact same spot as before. "And that's for _failing!_ You were a few steps away and you couldn't fire?" Felassan looked up. "You said he was the best shooter in the Temple. If the rest of them are worse, we don't _need_ a rebellion."

"Give him a break, he's not been bloodied yet."

Sophia was leaning on a branch just above Felassan, flipping a tiny object in her hand and staring at it intently.

Rav stood silent, nursing his wounded pride, but somehow managed to step back in the last moment and avoid collision with another cherry pit headed his way.

"Well, at least you can dodge when you see a shot coming. You might survive in battle long enough for something more interesting to kill you."

"You didn't kidnap me for slingshot target practice," said Rav. He was tired of all this. Whatever they had done to him with these stem cells, it had taken a toll on his body. "You said you wanted me to do a job for you? What is it?"

"We need a spy," said Felassan.

"At least half of the Sentinels are our agents, and they don't even know it." Sophia's gaze did not shift from the object in her hand. From a distance, it seemed like a small rock. "Like you, they were injected with the lyrium trace, although most don't get such a violent immune reaction. I have hundreds of eyes and ears in every division of the Sentinels except one. Have you heard of the Veil Division?"

"No." Rav was certain such a division did not exist. He had applied to all of them.

"They're a small unit that operates outside the usual chain of command. Think of them as special ops. They're the first line of defense against any intruders from the Fade: demons, darkspawn, enemy Dreamers -"

"So they're battlemages."

"Yes. But every several years they request the transfer of a non-mage shooter."

"What for?"

"You'll find out on your first day on the job. The paperwork for your transfer has already been falsified." Felassan grinned. "Be warned, your new boss is a real bastard."

"An engineer on the Veil; goes by the name of Solas," said Sophia. "Captain, I believe. Get as close to him as you can, and report all intel to Felassan. When the time comes, you will be instructed to kill him."

"Even if I wanted to cooperate," Rav mumbled, staring at his toes, "I don't seem to be able to kill."

She let out a joyless laugh, " _Everyone_ can kill. You just need proper motivation. Your mother, what's her name again?"

His fingers felt cold as he clenched them into fists. "You wouldn't…"

"Sula Sabrae." The glow flared briefly in Sophia's eyes. "You have Dalish ancestors, falon. Who knew. See how easy it is to snatch her name from your memories? You didn't even feel it. I can also learn where she works, where she lives, where she would be at any time of the day… Do as you're told and she'll be safe." Rav felt his fist relax against his will, reminding him she was still able to control his every movement. "Cause trouble and I might make you pull the trigger on her yourself."

He lowered his head to show defeat but his heart and thoughts were racing. They wouldn't hurt her for as long as they needed him. And if they were planning to send him back to the Temple, once there, he could more easily escape their influence and protect her from them. There had to be a way.

"Understood." His voice was hoarse as it fought through the tightness in his throat.

"Good." She climbed down from the tree with a few nimble jumps and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Not going to lie, the next few weeks will be a little rough. You like to pray, right? Here," she placed the object she'd been staring at in his palm. "No shrines around here, but you can use this."

"What is it?" Now that he held it, it looked like a part of an animal skull on a leather strap.

"It's a wolf jawbone." She cocked her head. "You've never actually seen a wolf, have you?"

"Only on paintings and mosaics."

"This one is from a real wolf. Let's hope it brings you luck."

That night, when his fever came back and he thrashed from the searing pain in his spine, he clutched the jawbone to his chest. He tried to think of a prayer, but he was delirious, his mind dashing between visions of his mother in her favorite dress, two sights aligned for a kill shot, and Cole's soft whisper, telling him to hold on and that the fever would soon pass. The only constant, sane thought was the resolve to keep fighting.

"I'd ask if that there was you or the demon inside you," said Felassan, "but it's telling I can't see the difference."

"It was me."

Sophia had kidnapped her future killer and shown him that at least for now, she was not to be messed with. She'd loved seeing that lost look on his face. Hopefully when the time came he would remember the small kindnesses she'd offered.

But now the high of it had worn off, and it put her in one of those moods where you tear the wings off of butterflies to feel joy. Or anything at all.

Usually when in such a mood, she tried not to look at herself sober, but she owed it to that Tabris she had killed to not burn him drunk.

The Gods she'd once worshipped as First had long ago become enemies at war. The knowledge and magic she'd learned as a healer now served mostly to make kills cleaner, more efficient. She had no one and nothing to pray to or swear by except the Void.

And while slaughter itself had long ago become as dull as any chore, she took pride in the small gestures she put in the work. One was to offer them the means to struggle, whenever possible. The other was to see them off respectfully.

They'd come out of the elven ruins into what had once been the Brecillian Forest, but was now cracked dry land covered in fine ash, like most of Thedas.

Lieutenant Taren Tabris - she'd made sure to learn his full name - lay on a low stone bench on top of a pile of coals, his weapon and trinkets carefully arranged around him, in case any of it had been important to him. Sophia had washed him and dressed him in his uniform, then placed him on the coals. He'd been heavy, but Felassan had never offered to help. The two of them had been friends long enough for Felassan to know she would refuse. It was her duty. Nevertheless, he's come along and kept her company, and she was secretly grateful.

"Just a few last-minute things," she said in a light voice as she started weaving the magical wards that would protect the body from spirits as it burns.

Felassan nodded and moved out of the way of her magic. It was a rare fortune to die and come back as a spirit, but it had robbed him of his magic abilities. Nevertheless, she knew he was judging the quality of her wards.

"So how do you like the boy?" she asked in effort to direct the conversation elsewhere.

"He'll do well, that is, unless you scare the wits out of him first. Don't be cruel to him. You don't want him to become like us."

"I wasn't trying to be cruel. I was…" She paused, trying to rationalize what had been an impulse. "Look, it felt strange. Him having me at gunpoint."

She'd wanted to give shape to her fears, an image to see when she jolts up at night. And now the shape was the perfect circle of a barrel, emptiness in its center.

Felassan must've heard some of her thoughts. Guilt would speak to him, just like pain spoke to Cole. He took her hand into his, gently interrupting her magic.

"I think the wards are done," he said.

"How does it look?"

"Pointless." He grinned. "I like it."

Sophia lit the coals on fire and the two of them sat nearby in silence. They had no ritual for it, no special words, just the resolve to watch until nothing was left but charred bones.

She leaned on Felassan's shoulder, watched the fire crack and peel of the dead skin, and thought of her friend's words. Pointless.

Perhaps it was. He was good at calling everything by its right name, even when the name hurt. She could pay her respects to those she'd killed personally, but it would never make up for all the deaths she'd caused with a simple choice.

 _I am nothing without you. As long as I'm with you, all of Thedas can burn._

She heard the words in the crackling of the flames, and she wished she could take them back. She wished she'd never begged Solas to join him on his deadly journey. She'd wished she had fought him back then, with all the forces of the Inquisition.

But she knew those words were still true, and ff she could go back, she would do it all over again. For him.

It was only fitting that the key to stopping Solas now would ultimately destroy her as well.

"You're _sure_ it was you?" asked Felassan after a while.

"Yes. You worry too much."

"If he is taking over…"

"He's not. We have time. Your precious plan is in no danger."

"Who said I'm worried about the plan?" He wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the heat of the flames. "And in response to your thoughts: regret is pointless. I would know. You doing the right thing now is what matters."

"And what if I don't? What if… Sometimes I think of betraying you."

He sprang up in a little cloud of dust.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I thought you've heard these thought already…"

"No, it's not that," he pointed towards the sky. "Someone's coming."

She had to squint hard at first, but then the speck got bigger and bigger, taking the shape of a ship, flying towards them. Soon she could make up the six eyes of the Dread Wolf painted on the hilt.

"Military ship. It's ours… I mean Solas'. Seems like they saw me." She got up abruptly as well.

"I thought you said no forces are passing through here."

"According to the tactical routes Solas gave me. The plans must've changed."

"Or he misled you on purpose."

Sophia rolled her eyes but thought to herself he was probably right. "This is hardly the time. I don't think they can see you. Run."

"You needn't ask twice. Coming along?"

"If _I_ run they'll think I'm some stranded enemy soldier and open fire."

"They'll do that anyway when they see your vallaslin."

She pulled the hood of her jacket over her face. "They'll have to get close first. And then… I'll think of something."

"Solid plan. Well, I should be off." He pulled her in for a quick hug. "Best of luck."

"You -" but by the time she spoke he had vanished already, "take care."

The ship was close now and she felt the thrust as it touched the ground. Some ten people came out - all shooters, no mages, but there had to be more soldiers inside.

"I mean no harm," she yelled, spreading her arms open in front of her. She didn't cast a barrier in the hopes of looking less hostile that way.

"Show your face!" A tall burly man stepped forth and pointed his rifle at her. The rest of the soldiers immediately followed suit.

"I'm a mage, healer in the Temp -"

"Show your face," he barked.

Magic welled up inside her, an old and dark power that she struggled to contain, even when calm. It would be a relief to not have to.

They didn't deserve it. Their disappearance would be noticed. Or maybe they were too many for her to take on alone. In that instant, none of it mattered. Fight now, think later.

"Wait!" She was about to cast when she heard a familiar lilting voice, and a man ran out, shoving people out of his way. "Hold your fire. I know this woman."

At the sight of him, she felt the dark creature inside her writhe in pain, then go completely still. "Solas?"


End file.
